


Saturday Nights

by Neonbat



Series: SPN kink Bingo 2018 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel, BDSM Scene, Boot Worship, Bootblacking, Cunnilingus, Dom Meg Masters, Dom/sub, F/M, Fetish fic, Gags, Light BDSM, Meg is dom as hell, Normal World AU, Nurse Meg, Sub Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Castiel has a normal nine to five job, normal hobbies, and great friends. No one would ever suspect where he goes to unwind on weekends with one of his best friends.





	Saturday Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This Kink bingo is wild. Welcome to the first f/m fic I've ever written! (I know, I'm shocked as well haha). What can I say, I ADORE Dom!Meg so friggin much.

“Damn, Clarence. Always said you looked good on your knees.” The sharp click of Meg ’s stilettoed boot against the cement floor of the underground club was sharp in his ears.

 

Castiel, or ‘Clarence’ to his Mistress (why she’d picked the name, he didn’t know, but it brought her great pleasure, so he didn’t mind) shivered, the cool air biting against his exposed skin. He’d already stripped to just his work trousers, fly unzipped, revealing the bulge in his sensible grey briefs. 

 

Nothing about his day to day life was thrilling. He was a quiet man full of lofty dreams he doubted he’d ever get the gall to seize. Every day from nine to five he went to sit at a desk and pour over numbers. Sometimes he’d meet friends for dinner at the same bar they always went to, or he’d sit and pine at his best friend’s house while Dean chortled to some god awful medical drama Castiel only sat through for Dean’s sake. His life never changed, except for the weekends he stole away to a word-of-mouth club his friends could never know about.

 

He hated to think how they would look at him if they saw him like this.

 

Castiel wasn’t submissive by nature. Not really. In fact, he could be downright aggressive in the right circumstances. He liked having control of his surroundings, his life. Structure made him feel comforted, and when his own hands orchestrated it, it was even better. But not on Saturday nights. Not with Mistress. 

 

Her riding crop traced the stubbled line of his jaw, her ruby red lips twisting into a smile that promised pain and oh so much pleasure. 

 

“You look pent up today beautiful. Stressful week?” She asked, and he nodded, unable to speak around the metal hoop wedged into his mouth held in place by a leather strap. It was embarrassing to have his tongue lolling past the hoop, dribbling saliva down his chin and chest, but the same embarrassment burned molten in his groin. 

 

They’d barely done anything past set the scene, and he was already debauched. Flushed and wanting. Typically, he rarely ever had sex. Hookups held little appeal, and he didn’t usually date. It had been six months since the last time he’d gone to bed with someone, but that was alright. Saturdays more than made up for it, even if Mistress didn’t allow for penetration. Neither one of them wanted to take things that far when things were already so satisfying. 

 

Meg stepped close until her gloved hands caught his slicked chin, gripping a hair too tight against his scruff. Castiel looked up with glazed eyes, taking in the way Megan’s hair fell around her cherubic face in soft waves, round cheeks brushed with a faint shimmer that caught the dim dungeon lighting. 

 

Somewhere in a nearby room, a woman wailed in ecstasy after the sharp crack of a paddle struck home. His dick instinctively twitched. 

“We’re going to try something new today angel. Sound good?” She crooned, gripping the crop with her thumb while her fingers trailed through his wild tussle of dark brown hair, snagging a handful at his crown. “I think you’re going to like it.”

 

He groaned, eyes fluttering. She laughed, thumbing away a trail of his drool and bringing it to her lips with an appreciate hum as she tasted him. “Be a good boy for me Clarence and crawl that ass over to my throne. Strip to your underwear and kneel.”

 

Eagerly, he shifted to his hands and knees, conscious of his Mistress’ eyes on him as he prowled towards the red leather, dark wood chair set in the middle of Megan’s scene space. 

 

Once in position on the plush cushion at the base of the throne, he hooked his hands in the band of his sensible trousers and wiggled free of them. Castiel had wondered why Mistress left his hands free tonight.

 

He could hear the slow draw of a zipper by the bed as Meg shed the first layer of faux leather cinched tight on her shapely, pale body. He was tempted to look, but Mistress was liberal with her praise tonight, and he didn’t want to displease her. Instead, Castiel folded his pants and set them aside. He almost forgot to remove the navy tie still around his neck, but a sharp ‘Leave it’ from the corner of the room returned his hands to his sides. Swallowing, Castiel knelt on the cushion, hands trailing back to clasp loosely behind his back with his posture straight, but loose.

 

“Good boy.” Megan crooned, combing her hand through his hair once more as she passed by to perch on her throne. The soft mounds of her breasts were bare, a rare treat. Black pentagram shields outlined each pink, pierced nipple, keeping them erect and eye-catching. His blue eyes sharpened, another trickle of slick dewing from his tongue. 

 

A black corset cinched her middle, but to his surprise, she was bare on the bottom. His eyes widened, taking in the soft, trimmed hair nestled at her groin. Smirking, Meg widened her legs, revealing the black barbell pierced through her hood and the deep rouge of folds hinting at the sweetness within. 

 

Castiel tried to swallow, but the gag prevented it. 

 

“Like it angel?” Meg chuckled, crossing her legs and bobbing one booted foot on her knee. “Tell you what...You do what I ask like a very good boy, and I’ll let you have an extra special reward.” Her hand drifted, briefly curling down against her crotch to tease herself with a Cheshire smile. “Would you like that baby?”

 

Castiel nodded helplessly, heart quickening in his chest. What was she playing at? He could count on one hand the times she’d rewarded him so thoroughly. 

 

He’d known the woman for years, longer than he’d ever known about the club. He’d gone to college with her, and somehow they’d stayed friends long after Psych 101. Their friends knew Megan was a dominatrix as a profession, but none of them knew she was also a member of a true sex club. It was thanks to her that he’d even tried it. ‘You’re too tense Clarence; I know what would do the trick.’ They’d never even approached a sexual relationship outside of this club. But this place cast a special spell over them. They weren’t just close friends here. Both could try on different personas than they were forced to on the outside. Castiel the accountant, and Megan the nurse weren’t present here. 

 

“Mmm, that’s what I like to here.” Slowly, her leg stretched out until the tip of her boot trailed down his bare chest. “Do you know what bootblacking is?” She questioned, eyes twinkling. There was no real question there, Castiel had thrown himself into researching all aspects of this lifestyle as soon as he was introduced. He never liked stepping into a situation he wasn’t well versed in beforehand. 

 

The sole of Meg’s shoe came to rest against the arch of his cock against his briefs, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. He nodded once more, hips giving an abortive twitch as his Mistress’ shoe teased slow circles against his clothed shaft. 

 

Her foot paused, and she brought her shoe up once more. “Well?” Meg prompted sweetly, but there was nothing so syrupy in her eyes. A beast lurked in those russet depths, wild and untamed. 

 

Sensing his hesitation, Meg relented.”You may remove the gag.” 

 

Sagging with relief, Castiel quickly unfastened the latch behind his head and set the gag aside, relishing the ache burning in his jaw. There was no time to savor his freedom, not when Meg still poised her dainty foot in the air. Waiting. 

 

He quickly gripped the stiletto with his right hand, eyeing his Mistress as he bent forward. He’d never done something quite so base before. It was humiliating, but even with shame burning hot on his cheeks, his tongue peeked out to swipe against the leather over her toes. 

 

His saliva shined against her shoe with every tentative pass of his pink tongue. A low rumble built in his throat as he crept a little closer, lavishing Meg’s boot with attention as she hummed quiet praises.

 

“Good boy Clarence, make it shine.” Meg purred, reaching for her crop to caress it against his cheeks and shoulders. “Always so good for me.”

 

Castiel’s breath fluttered on the exhales as his mouth trailed up the length of the long boots. His eyes flicked up to meet her’s, taking in the smolder of her brown eyes boring down at him. 

 

He was tenting his underwear to a shameful degree at this point, but he didn’t dare touch himself. The crop could strike him in punishment as quickly as it rewarded. 

 

“Now the other,” Meg shifted her legs, allowing him another tantalizing peek of his ‘reward’ before she crossed her legs once more. 

 

Castiel fell onto his boot with fervor, shame burning hot on his cheeks but desire driving him on. He trembled under the weight of his lust, spiraling out of control until it was all-consuming. He was better than this outside of the dungeon, a man of morals and control. A citizen that anyone could look at and say he did his part. But here? He was a degenerate, no more than an animal to be guided and trained by his Mistress. 

 

“That’s it baby, so good for me.” Meg’s voice thickened, arching to press her breasts to the air, perfect mounds of decorated cream. “Make’em shine.”

 

He was whimpering with every lap now, quietly begging her to have mercy. It was still early in the evening, but the lurid scene had driven him above and beyond what he thought he was capable of.  He didn’t think he could handle much more than this without tipping over untouched. 

 

“I want you to dirty these boots all over again for me Clarence, get them all nice and messy and clean them back up.” Meg planted her heels against the floor, “Come here, baby. Get your reward, and do what I said.” She sank deeper into the chair, a wicked smile on her bright lips as she spread her legs invitingly. 

 

The sight of her, dewy and open for him, beaded wet into the lining of his briefs. He crept forward, burying his face between her legs as her hand descended on the back of his head. Meg didn’t even allow him to scent her before she pressed insistently to plant his face in the searing warmth of her. 

 

He moaned, whole body shivering as her left leg slide between his parted knees and pressed a line against his body. Her command made abrupt sense, and he was quick to lean heavier against her, planting his groin against her shin. His cock, even with the fabric buffer, caught the laces of the long boots, sending a shock of pain and pleasure dancing up his spine. 

 

“Take that bad boy out. Can’t dirty my pretty kicks with him put away.” She breathed, rolling her hips instantly against his mouth hard enough to nearly suffocate him in her sweetness. 

 

Castiel huffed frenzied breaths against her as he groped for his waist, fingers brushing against the tantalizing boot and down. With one rough tug, he freed himself of his final barrier of restraint. He bobbed free against her boot, shining and thick with desire. The first grind of his cock against the laces punched a piteous whimper that only sent a vibration against Meg’s filled bud.

 

Meg sighed, pressing her foot forward until Castiel’s length was trapped between her boot and his stomach. “That’s it, baby, ride it good. Want to hear those cute sounds.” She derived intense pleasure out of the deep timbre of his voice rich with euphoria. More than once she’d recorded it for her collection. 

 

Castiel worked his mouth and tongue until her slick dribbled down his chin, marking him for his Mistress. Every rutting swing of his hips against her brought him closer and closer, dick dragging against the patent boot already wet from his tongue. 

 

Meg’s free leg came up to loop around his shoulders, pulling him in an iron grip so abruptly he had little time to draw a bracing breath. She held him there, groaning low and desperate as his lungs began to burn and the wiggles of his hips stuttered and jerked. 

 

When the fervor of his moans started to weaken from deprivation, she pulled her boot up until the rounded tip pressed against his tightly drawn sack. Castiel came with a muffled shout, grinding into the press as he pumped thick strands against the brand new boot.

 

His first breath felt like a blessing and all too soon at that. Castiel sucked in a greedy breath, looking up at his Mistress with glazed eyes as he rolled his hips weakly, milking every last drop.

 

“There you are.” Meg purred, reaching down to thumb over his lower lip wet with her nectar. “Look at you Clarence, pretty little mouth messed up, red-faced, and jumping me like a dog in heat. No one else gets to see you like this do they?” She smiled devilishly sweet, tugging him up by a quick jerk of his tie. The kiss was claiming, her kitten tongue lapping the wet from his lips before delving into his mouth. 

 

A small grunt escaped him as he was pushed back, sprawling onto his ass as Meg recrossed her legs, soiled boot bobbing on her knee. “What are you waiting for, my good boy? I told you, clean it again.” 

 

Castiel shifted to his knees, casting bold eyes at his Mistress as he crept forward. Her foot stretched to meet him, obscene ropes of milky white thick against the black. Almost delicately he cupped the sole in his hand and leaned forward, long tongue sliding against the first line. 

 

The tang of his own sweat and seed bloomed on his tongue, melding with the lingering taste of Meg. Her sweet sighs above him proved too difficult to ignore, and he looked up. A hard shiver danced up his spine as he watched her gloved fingers dive in and out of her, stirring herself up until the sound of it filled Castiel’s ears. 

 

He licked over the laces, sucking the fluid from the cloth strands. Meg bit her lower lip, thumbing over her erect bud with a jerk that bounced her soft chest.  Castiel fell upon his task with a single-minded drive, every pass of his tongue pushing his Mistress closer to the edge. 

 

Finally, on the last dribble against the faux leather, Meg’s breath hitched with a sharp gasp that broke into a quivering moan.

 

He collapsed into a satisfied heap at her feet, satisfied to have her rest one of her boots against his side as they caught their breath. 

 

“Mmm, Damn angel, and I thought the prostate wand was fun.” She tittered, rolling her sole lazily against his skin. 

 

An hour later after the scene was closed and cleaned, Meg zipped up her far more reasonable black hoodie and bumped him with her hip.

 

“I’m starving, want to see what everyone else is up to? I’d punch a nun for a pizza and a beer.” 

 

Softly chuckling, he tucked his sensible shirt back into his pants and fixed his belt. “I’ll call them, Dean and Charlie should be finished with their DnD night, and Sam should be off work.”

 

Sometimes, Saturday nights ended like this. ‘Normal.’ The only trace of what they’d done hidden beneath his clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write


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